


Ukor B'ukor

by Emrys_Fae, mneiai



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cults, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death Watch (Star Wars), Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Forced Marriage, M/M, Mandalorian Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obsessive Behavior, Shadow Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28145055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emrys_Fae/pseuds/Emrys_Fae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: Obi-Wan thought that his mission to Mandalore was behind him, but not everyone he'd met was willing to let him go.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Pre Vizsla
Comments: 20
Kudos: 306





	Ukor B'ukor

**Author's Note:**

> Our first co-written piece and of course it's Preobi! It was certainly an entertaining and enjoyable experiment and we've got several more planned that we're excited for.

Of all the people he’d thought he might run into at this particular club, _Pre Vizsla_ had not been one of them. There had been no reports of Mandalorian presence on planet—something that Obi-Wan had found himself automatically looking for despite the years between his mission to Mandalore and the present day. He never knew how he’d react to Mandalorians, especially if they were Death Watch.

He had a choice: possibly draw attention to himself by breaking out of character, ruining weeks worth of work observing his current target, or… let Pre do what he wanted and hope the man didn’t blow Obi-Wan’s cover.

It wasn’t much of a choice. The mission would _always_ come first.

“Hello, mesh’la,” Pre murmured, taking the empty seat next to him without asking.

The casual compliment, Pre’s thick Concordian accent twisting around the words, had Obi-Wan remembering too much of their last few encounters. Of how good it had felt, despite how terrified he’d been, of how _right_ he had been taught it was to please the ven’alor.

If Pre meant to kill him for ‘betraying’ Death Watch, it seemed odd not to wait until Obi-Wan had left the club to try and take him by surprise. Pre felt sharp in the Force, resonating a danger that still felt much the same as Obi-Wan remembered it feeling when they were younger.

“Hello there.” He managed a smile, addressing him as if he were a stranger. “If you’re looking for a good time, I’m sorry to say I’m not much of one.”

Pre chuckled, low and deep. “We both know _that’s_ not true, Ben’ika.” Obi-Wan mentally cursed the way that chuckle with those words sent a thrill down his back, that name from _Pre’s_ lips made him feel like a recruit again, just catching the interest of the Mand’alor’s son.

The problem with using the same nickname he’d once used, back on Mandalore, was now he didn’t know if Pre didn’t care he was undercover and was just using it or if Pre was _fully aware_ of what Obi-Wan was doing. If he’d learned that information about his cover before coming over to him.

Obi-Wan pursed his lips, before deciding to cut to the chase, no matter how much making a demand of Death Watch’s Mand’alor made his insides squirm. “What do you want, Pre?”

“I have a room rented upstairs.” A gauntleted hand settled high on Obi-Wan’s thigh, fingers brushing teasingly. Obi-Wan felt his breath catch in his throat, the sensation burning hot through his synthleather pants. “I’d like you to join me there.”

Obi-Wan gathered himself together, glancing around and noting how many people were watching them, how many people were watching _Pre_ in fear. Pre was known here, as a member of Death Watch, maybe even as the leader of Death Watch from the way people were edging back. It would be far too suspicious if ‘Ben’ didn’t realize just who this was, and make him look like a fool if he refused Pre’s offer.

“Why not?” He downed the rest of his drink—something his cover would definitely do even as he was already working on clearing the alcohol from his system—and offered his hand.

Pre took it gently, tugging him away from the table, towards a doorway that would lead to the stairwells. This, too, would have had to be planned in advance, making Obi-Wan wonder just how many commandos he needed to be prepared for when they reached the room (if they even waited that long to attack).

And, yet, they went up a few stories, down a hallway, to an inconspicuous looking door, Pre opened it, and… there was no attack. The room beyond was empty except for the sparse furnishings. It was just Pre and Obi-Wan in there, once the door closed.

The instant Pre let go of his hand, he was reaching for his lightsaber in its hidden compartment in his coat, instinctively hesitating from months of training that made attacking Pre seem like some great crime. Pre, in that moment of hesitation, was reaching for him, wrapping him in a tight hug, pulling him against his hard beskar’gam.

“I missed you so much, Ben’ika,” Pre breathed, his shields faltering for a moment so that Obi-Wan felt an overwhelming amount of old _desperation_ and new _relief_. “I knew if I kept trying, I would find you, I would get you back.”

Forcing himself to relax, Obi-Wan placed his arms around Pre in return. Pre had always had a volatile temper, and if Obi-Wan sparked that temper he’d have far more than just his cover to worry about. Whatever game Pre was playing, he’d play along for now.

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” he replied, gripping a little tighter as though he too was relieved. “I thought I’d never see you again, not after my mission ended. I’ve never been allowed back to Mandalorian space.” 

Some of that was even true, though one could say that he hadn’t ever _wanted_ to see Pre again. Even if somehow his ‘betrayal’ of Death Watch hadn’t been enough to almost certainly get him killed, there was the fact that every one of Pre’s lovers had ended up ‘tragically’ dead and Obi-Wan had unknowingly added himself to the list. 

Pre nuzzled against his hair, contentment leaking into his signature—contentment and undeniable smugness. "I knew the Jedi were keeping you from me, I knew you'd come back to me if they hadn't stolen you away, if that so-called master of yours hadn’t forced you to return to him."

Glad that Pre couldn’t see his face, Obi-Wan tried to figure out what was going on. He’d been a spy, had been sure he would be murdered the moment anyone had discovered the truth. And now Pre knew the truth, had known it for years, and he was holding Obi-Wan just like he had back then. 

“I can’t believe you understand, I thought you’d hate me for what I was.” Had mourned, even if he’d felt foolish for it, at the thought of Pre despising him.

Pre radiated that smugness, leading Obi-Wan to the bed. "I was angry at first," he admitted, "but I _knew_ you loved me. That you wouldn't leave unless they'd made you leave."

Obi-Wan was starting to panic, just a little, as Pre pushed him towards the bed, his intent crystal clear. "Pre, I can't, we can't. I'm on a mission.” Not that that would be important to Pre. “If I don't fulfill it people will get hurt."

Waving a hand, Pre easily dismissed Obi-Wan's worry. "I'll have my people handle whatever it is, you have no reason to feel guilty abandoning this busy work the jetiise sent you on."

He bit his tongue to stop himself from defending the mission—it would be too close to defending the Jedi, and he suspected that defending the Jedi right now would be a very bad idea. Many of the lessons for Death Watch recruits had revolved around hatred of the Republic, which propped up the New Mandalorian regime, and hatred of the Jedi had been right there, sometimes unspoken, but always obvious to Obi-Wan. Towards the end, he’d even started hating himself for _being_ a Jedi, having spent so long alone with Death Watch.

"You know I like to be busy, I don't mind that." He ran his hands over Pre's arms, the armor cool against his palms. "I just want to make sure there's enough time for _us_. I don't want it cut short while I'm in your arms."

The grin he received was a sign that his words were working, Pre hadn't noticed any of his hesitation. "We hardly need to worry about that," he insisted, kissing him with a tenderness he'd rarely displayed before. "We'll have all the time in the world, now."

Warning bells were going off in the back of his mind. Did... did Pre think that Obi-Wan was _staying_ with him? 

"We have time, yes." He hesitated again, before trying to not-so-subtly explain the situation, "But I'm expected back at the Temple, once this mission is through. They'll send people after me if I don't return." That wasn't strictly speaking true, but if they thought he was in danger there was a chance they'd send a rescue team after him.

"No, they won't." Pre's words were steady and assured, a tone that Obi-Wan had learned to take as truth, as a sign to relax. A moment later, the nausea forced it’s way past the instinctual response as he recognized what that tone meant _now_ , when Obi-Wan was not a Death Watch recruit, but a Jedi Knight on a mission. "I knew you'd be here, it's all prepared. They'll think you died in the crossfire."

He couldn't quite keep the alarm out of his voice, "Crossfire?” He pulled away from Pre, or tried to, Pre’s arms tightening around him and Obi-Wan knew better than to fight. “I came here to _protect_ people. I don’t want any innocents to die for… for me." The last words petered out weakly, he’d almost said ‘this,’ almost accidentally implied _Pre_ wasn’t enough to justify it.

"They're hardly innocent, Ben, if they're so comfortable around lowlives like the criminals out there." 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but Pre was pushing him down to the bed, hands caressing Obi-Wan's body, finding all those secret spots that made him gasp and shake with pleasure. It was difficult to concentrate on his words when it felt like the entirety of his attention had narrowed to where Pre's hands were touching him.

"’Alor, Pre—" he cut off with a gasp as Pre's hands moved. "We—we should talk about this." He'd managed to avoid dying as one of Pre's lovers the first time and he was in no hurry to get his throat cut after Pre had his way with him now.

"I love you," Pre said, instead of a helpful answer, continuing his pleasurable assault. "Losing you made me realize how much. I never want to be without you again, Ben’ika. Marry me."

The words barely made sense, given the situation. But most of his critical thinking seemed to be on hold, he could barely even manage words, just a soft moan. To be the Mand’alor’s riduur was one of the greatest honors a verd could accomplish, it meant they were seen as the jatnese be te jatnese, the best of the best. 

But, he reminded himself, _he was not a verd_. His mind raced—or at least was trying to—attempting to determine a way out of this. He had to stall. 

"I love you, too."

Pre smiled down at him, eyes bright with victory. He kissed him and words left Obi-Wan, it was too easy to just give into the pleasure that Pre so easily pulled from his body. And this time there was an added layer, something he realized only belatedly—Pre was _purposefully_ letting his own pleasure through the shields he normally kept locked tight, his own lust washing over Obi-Wan, because now he knew that Obi-Wan was Force Sensitive. 

The horrible competence of it was making Obi-Wan even more interested despite himself.

Pre was already on top of him, but Obi-Wan pulled him closer, the armor a cool counterpoint to the heat that had spread through his body. It was almost as satisfying as actual skin contact, and he found his hands petting the beskar’gam with an almost worshipful reverence. The armor that meant Manda and strength and the traditions of the Faithful.

Yet even the armor against his skin was not enough to ground him as Pre’s kisses grew more fervent, more heated.

Pre had always gone into sex like it was a fight, a battle that he had to win. But this time it was like Pre was laying siege, like the only possible end would be Obi-Wan's own surrender.

"I have thought of you for years," he whispered against Obi-Wan's neck as he stripped him with his clever, experienced hands. "Everyone I've been with since you, it was only so that I could be better for you."

Obi-Wan let out a soft sigh of pleasure, trying to pull at Pre's armor in return, though his efforts were hindered by Pre himself, who was clearly unwilling to give up his control over the situation. 

Still, a declaration like that deserved a touch of reality, no matter how hard the words were to form. Pre was _Mand’alor_ and Obi-Wan was a traitor—no, he tried to remind himself, he was a Jedi, there had been nothing to betray. 

"You could have anyone, Pre. Why would you settle for me?"

"I haven't _settled_ for anything. You are as close to perfect as anyone could be. No one could ever compare to you." The conviction Pre felt left Obi-Wan shaky and moaning, unused to such praise. "We were meant to be together, the Manda willed us to meet."

“The Manda gave me to you?” The words were meant to be a question, a tease. But they somehow came out closer to a declaration.

" _Yes_." Pre kissed him, twisting his hands in a way that had Obi-Wan feel like he was seconds from falling apart, like a reward for those words. "We were meant to be, we fit together so well, complemented each other in every way, I was a fool not to realize it sooner. You've been lied to, scared away by those jetiise. I can't blame you for never figuring it out on your own. But now that you know, see how much sense it makes?"

It didn’t make sense at all. Pre was Death Watch, Obi-Wan was a Jedi. They were so diametrically opposed it wasn’t even worth considering. Except... he could remember working with Pre, building plans together: battle plans, support plans, long term plans for Mandalore. They’d been good at that, filling in for each other’s weaknesses, pushing each other to reach further, half of Obi-Wan’s classes changing to the subjects that were necessary for him to become what Pre needed him to be. 

“You made me better.” It was a truth he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge then, but Pre had allowed Obi-Wan to feel confident in himself in a way that had been almost foreign. Pre had made Obi-Wan _believe_ in himself.

Pre kissed down Obi-Wan's body, paying close attention to all the places he knew drove Obi-Wan wild, even after so long. "And you made me better. Would make _Mandalore_ better at my side."

The image was so strong, it must have been Pre broadcasting it: the two of them together, dressed in beskar’gam, Mandalore strong behind them, the rest of the galaxy at their feet. Obi-Wan moaned, not sure if he wanted to pull Pre back up or push him further down. All he knew was that he wanted Pre to _move_ , but he was taking his time, lavishing slow and careful attention down his stomach.

“Love you, ‘alor, lo—.” He cut off with another moan as Pre’s tongue did something _glorious_.

He'd forgotten how quickly Pre could get him off, even as he struggled to hold on, to not embarrass himself. But Pre was an expert at taking people apart in this way and Obi-Wan hadn't been with anyone in months, not with how often his casual encounters led to no one ever comming him back again. He cried out Pre's name, back arching, before collapsing down on the mattress, gasping for breath. Naked and vulnerable under the still fully-armored Pre.

Who crawled back up his body, dropping soft kisses against his sensitive skin. Obi-Wan clung to him, pulling him in for a kiss. He was overstimulated and shaky, but he _needed_ more.

Pre held him, stroking his skin and pressing kisses where he could reach, as he finally undid his codpiece and pushed at his kute, just enough to take himself out. He'd pulled lubricant from somewhere and Obi-Wan stared in anticipation as Pre used it on himself, then his hand disappeared back between Obi-Wan's legs, forcing renewed moans from him. 

"So beautiful," Pre whispered, kissing his shoulder. "So beautiful when you belong to me."

With the pleasure Pre was carefully wringing out of him—and the pleasure he was broadcasting into the Force, the sensations almost overwhelming—Obi-Wan was just about willing to declare himself Pre’s entirely. 

Pre sinking into him filled the Force with such ecstasy and Pre's feeling of _rightness_ that Obi-Wan lost himself in it, moving automatically as his body wanted. If he said anything to Pre's possessive words after that, he couldn't recall, wouldn't be surprised if he had promised any number of things just to keep feeling the depths of pleasure that Pre was dragging him into.

After, he was sprawled out on the bed, body heavy with satisfaction. Pre was covering him, keeping him pinned beneath him, though it didn’t feel oppressive. They were trading soft kisses, the atmosphere warm and intoxicating. He thought he could stay like this forever, though there was a warning sensation distant and on the edge of his senses, threatening to pull him out of this nest of contentment.

Pre kept him floating in afterglow for longer than should have been possible, playing with his body and his Force senses as whispered orders telling him to relax were kissed into his skin. Even though he vaguely knew he _shouldn't_ let himself fall asleep in Pre's arms, it was hard to remember why he wouldn’t want to be in the arms of his ‘alor. 

He didn't put up much resistance as his mind slowly shut down, too overwhelmed to keep going. 

When he woke up, he was in a bed, but it was no longer the same bed or in the same room. The slight nausea of leftover drugs in his system made it clear how he'd been moved without waking. Pre, naked now as well, was against his back, holding him tightly.

He was clearly awake, the room already filled with the strong sense of pleasure and satisfaction. Obi-Wan didn’t move, trying to keep his breathing steady as sleep, mind racing. The pretense didn’t work. Pre’s hold tightened around him, a soft kiss brushing against the back of his neck like a welcome. 

Obi-Wan shifted slowly in Pre’s arms, never moving more than Pre let him. “Good morning.” Though it could be any time of day and Obi-Wan would have no clue. “Where are we?” He bit his tongue, barely keeping himself from addressing Pre as ‘alor. He swallowed hard, the precariousness of the situation making him want to fall back on his training.

"On our way back home," Pre replied easily, in a tone that was clearly meant to be reassuring. "We were close, it won't take long." His fingers stroked Obi-Wan's skin, something too dark to _truly_ be love flowing off of him. "You won't have to pretend anymore, to be some obedient, cold jetii."

Obi-Wan shivered, whether at the dark implication of the words or Pre’s touch he couldn’t quite tell. He could feel his body already responding to the touch. He caught Pre’s fingers in his own, lacing them together so that Pre couldn’t distract him but neither could it be taken as a rejection. 

Something told him that even if he could manage to reject Pre right now, it would be _very_ dangerous.

“Why didn’t you ask me? Surely you didn’t have to jump straight to drugging me?”

"I didn't want you to feel like I was forcing you to choose, I know how seriously you take responsibilities, even false ones." Pre hugged him close, burying his face in Obi-Wan's neck and breathing in deeply. "You also would have protested our methods, soft hearted as you've become."

Every word from Pre’s mouth was something he didn’t want to deal with. He remembered what Pre had said about how Obi-Wan’s ‘death’ would be lost in the crossfire. 

“You could benefit from a little of my soft hearted tendencies, it would do wonders for your PR.”

"And it will, on Mandalore." Pre finally pulled away, crawling off the bed and walking towards a tray of food. "The riduur of a Mand'alor often tempers their worst qualities, the Faithful know this." And Obi-Wan did know it, had learned that, too, could even remember Pre bemoaning the early death of his other buir when Tor did something too drastic.

He watched him, eyes trailing over Pre’s body without his permission. Pre turned, tray in hand and a small smirk on his face from catching Obi-Wan looking. 

Obi-Wan flushed, looking away. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned marrying me. I didn’t think you were serious the first time.”

Pre knelt on the bed next to Obi-Wan, setting the tray next to them. He picked up a piece of fruit, holding it against Obi-Wan's lips. 

"Of course I'm serious. I would have offered before, eventually, when I realized just how special you were." His free hand brushed a lock of Obi-Wan's hair off his forehead, touch tender and proprietary. They both knew it wasn’t true, that Pre wouldn’t have offered this _before_. "You're not like the others, Ben'ika, they were worthless, toys to be used and discarded. Not like you."

Obi-Wan let Pre feed him, lips brushing against the pads of Pre’s fingers. They had done this before, when Pre had refused to allow Obi-Wan to leave his bed, had insisted he would take care of him and Obi-Wan had acquiesced, obedient and submissive as he was meant to be. 

He considered Pre’s words carefully, considering his own response. “The Jedi, they weren’t the only reason I never came back to you... after I learned about the fate of the rest of your lovers. I thought my feelings for you were one-sided, was certain you felt nothing but brief enjoyment with me.” He paused, meeting Pre’s gaze, his dark eyes full of _desire_. “It might take me time to adjust to the thought of your feelings being what they are.”

"You'll have time, Ben," Pre assured him, pressing a kiss to his lips before following it with another piece of food, clearly planning on hand feeding Obi-Wan the whole tray. "And no reason to doubt my love. No one has ever been so compatible with me, has been able to take everything I want to do to them so beautifully, has been capable of standing at my side as a true riduur should." Something crossed Pre's face, almost like regret, and Obi-Wan was sure even without him saying that Pre would have killed him if he had stayed, just like the rest of Pre’s lovers. "I never offered marriage to _any_ of the others."

Obi-Wan believed that much. The Mandalorian marriage vows might have had very little to do with love, but they were still _vows_. Pre would have lost the respect of his followers if he’d sworn those vows and then killed his riduur. 

He smiled up at Pre. “I admit, there was a part of me that expected you wanted me to say the vows right now.” The flash of emotion in Pre’s eyes meant he might not have been far off.

Pre fed Obi-Wan a few more pieces of food before offering him sips of a shig he recognized from his time on Concordia. "Why not? We'll never be parted again, we can marry now and have a feast when we arrive."

“You said I could have time to adjust,” Obi-Wan pointed out, feeling a small burst of panic at how quickly things were moving and how a part of him reared up with _desire_ for what was being offered. He already knew Pre wasn’t going to accept the excuse, had perhaps not ever meant it that way at all.

When he’d decided to play along with Pre’s game, he had not expected to be capture and proposed to.

The look he received was fond, still, as though Obi-Wan was a pet being naughty. Degrading, but Pre wasn't angry, so Obi-Wan was willing to accept it. 

"Do you really need time? I know dar'jetiise can sense truth, too."

“Yes, or sometimes just what you _believe_ to be true,” Obi-Wan corrected.

The words were greeted by Pre letting his shields slip open, a controlled whisp of love, adoration, want, need emanating from him and Obi-Wan let out a small laugh. “I certainly feel _that_.”

"You are more than capable of fending me off, if you need to," Pre pointed out, amused, his possessive love exposed completely in the Force. "But you won't have to. We're meant to be together, meant to be as one before the Manda."

Obi-Wan acceded the point, and turned back to a stalling technique. It wasn’t like sex with Pre could get him any deeper into hot water, he’d already been drugged and abducted. 

“You’re right, I don’t want to.” He nudged at the tray, moving it to the side so he could pull Pre closer. “No one has ever made me feel the things you do.”

"It's the same for me, you're the only one that makes me feel these things." Pre hovered over him, assured of his victory. "Marry me, Ben'ika. Say the riduurok with me."

He couldn’t hesitate, he knew he couldn’t. Not when he and Pre were teetering so dangerously. Not when there would be only one consequence of denying his Mand’alor. He pulled Pre down for a kiss, quietly hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, hating the part of himself that had been taught to want this. He murmured the first words of the vow against Pre’s lips.

Pre immediately started speaking the vow with him and for all Obi-Wan knew it was only as binding as they made it, there was a weight in the words. Maybe it was because he knew now Pre would never let him go again.

They finished the vows, still forehead to forehead, lips inches apart. The weight of what they’d done pressed down on him, making Obi-Wan feel a little like he couldn’t breathe. 

“I know you said we’d have a feast tonight—” something Pre must have already been planning, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but wonder just _how long_ Pre had been planning to bring him back. “But surely we can celebrate a little now, just the two of us.”

"Of course," Pre laughed, hands already moving over Obi-Wan. "You're insatiable, riduur. But I'll give you everything you need."

“None of my past bed mates ever stuck around very long, this is quite the luxury.” It was surely bad etiquette to mention other lovers while in bed with his husband, but so was abducting someone in order to marry them. And knowing how talented Pre was, Obi-Wan would be too pleasure-hazed to worry about the situation, which for now could only be a bonus.

There was something dark and smug that Pre felt at that, though Obi-Wan couldn't place why it made him uneasy. "Then they were fools who didn't deserve you. You're meant to be kept and savored." His mouth soon followed his hands, drawing soft moans from Obi-Wan.

"You wouldn't have kept me the first time, either," Obi-Wan pointed out, words coming out in stuttered messes around his moans. "But that's certainly not stopping you from keeping me, now."

"I would have been a fool, as well," Pre agreed easily enough. "But I didn't really know you, did I? You had been holding yourself back. Now there's no secrets, no lies."

Obi-Wan huffed out a laugh, lacing his fingers into Pre's hair to have _something_ to hold onto as Pre wrecked him with his mouth. "No secrets?"

"I know you were a jetii, I know you were a spy. You don't have to keep anything secret from me, now." His fingers and tongue drove Obi-Wan wild, Pre conquering his body with reverence, as if he was a stand-in for Manda'yaim itself.

Obi-Wan had never before wanted to be conquered as much as he did when it was Pre, doing it like this. "And you? Are you saying _you_ have no secrets?"

Pre laughed, the noise reverberating through Obi-Wan's body, making him cry out. "Which secrets do you want? That I've obsessed over you? That I've killed others for not being you?"

At least, Obi-Wan thought a little dazedly, Pre himself was aware that this was obsession, not love, even if he didn't seem the least bit bothered by it. "It certainly makes a person feel wanted,” the words were only half as sarcastic as he’d meant for them to be, “when the Mand'alor himself says such things."

“It’s true, I could have nearly anyone I wanted.” Obi-Wan refrained from pointing out that most people wouldn’t be a _consensual_ partner to Pre. “But none of them would compare. You’re the one who won’t bore me. You’re the one who will stand beside me as I take our people’s home back.”

There was that image again, so strong in Pre’s mind that Obi-Wan couldn’t help but believe it. The two of them, a strong Mandalore, the galaxy at their fingertips. “Yes.” The word was almost punched out of him, and he was no longer sure if it was just that long ago training that caused the words or if it was actually true. “I want that.”


End file.
